


Take Me Home

by turnedherbrain



Series: The Prince of Kingham [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Not Canon Compliant, Romance, at least when it comes to the Merlin/Freya relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 07:50:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12883368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnedherbrain/pseuds/turnedherbrain
Summary: After nine months in Kingham, Merlin's got a lot of people wanting his advice and help. Especially relationship advice.But someone in the village is hellbent on stirring up fear about the mysterious beast, and Merlin's finding it harder and harder to keep Freya safe, and keep his own head above water. So when Artie offers him a job, Merlin has to decide if he really wants to work for 'the prince of Kingham': a job which involves some unusual duties...





	1. Welcome to Kingham

_[Tell me I'm safe, you've got me now](https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/jessglynne/takemehome.html) _

Merlin drove them back into the village just after dawn. He liked travelling along the lanes at this time: the sleepy birds only just beginning their chorus, the sky stirring up another day. Especially now they were nearing summer – the nights were ever-shortening, which meant longer days spent with Freya.

As he entered the village, the sign by the side of the road said:

 

**Welcome to Kingham**

Most peaceful village in the Cotswolds

Population: 697

Twinned with Le Grau-du-Roi, France

 

When he’d first arrived in Kingham, some local wag had added _‘ **and 100 cows** ’_ to the population figure on the sign. But recently, a worrying addition had appeared. Underneath the printed sign, someone had scrawled in indelible black marker, in capitals: ‘ ** _HOME OF THE BEAST_** ’. Merlin brought the car to a careful halt on the grass verge. Freya was thankfully still sleeping in the passenger seat, so he could get out and assiduously erase the words.

No matter how many times he’d done this, the scrawl on the sign kept reappearing. He wondered which of the villagers it was – given that a beer-emboldened Gwaine had told all the regulars in The Shepherd’s Staff about their midnight encounter with the Beast. And _they_ would have told their wife, or their neighbour, or a friend, or someone from the next village. It could be anyone, and it could be a joke. But Merlin’s response was serious, because he knew the beast was not what it appeared, and because he knew what lay beneath its skin.

Looking at the village’s welcome sign, Merlin wondered about erasing the words ‘Most peaceful’, and adding some graffiti of his own: ‘Warning – enter at your own risk’. After all, since his arrival in Kingham, not much more than nine months ago, he’d faced down a witch and helped to foil a kidnap. Then there were his manifold attempts to use his magic, to rid Freya of her nightly curse. ‘Peaceful’ was the least likely adjective he would use to describe Kingham.

Merlin was so absorbed in his thoughts, someone had come up behind him without him noticing. It was Diane, who tapped him lightly on the shoulder in greeting.

“Cleaning the sign?” she asked him, without the slightest hint of curiosity. Merlin hoped she hadn’t been able to see exactly how he’d erased the graffiti. “It keeps on coming back,” she commented, again in a matter-of-fact way. “Who do you think it is?”

“I’m not sure. But whoever it is, they return each night and re-do it,” shrugged Merlin. “I just don’t think it’s at all helpful, to spread fear about a creature we know _nothing_ about.” He glanced over at the car, to check that Freya was still sleeping soundly.

“All I know is, it’s affected business at the pub,” Diane replied. “There’s far fewer people coming out in the evenings. They’re all afraid the beast is going to wander into town once the sun’s gone down, and gobble us all up.”

“And what do _you_ think?” asked Merlin, wanting to know her view.

“I think that the beast should be left well alone. There are many other things in the woods that we should be afraid of. People shouldn’t go stirring them up,” said Diane decisively.

And with these mysterious words, Diane walked on without saying goodbye. Merlin called after her, to see if she’d like a lift back to the pub, but she pretended she hadn’t heard him. What was she doing out walking so early anyway? He’d not had chance to ask her.

Seeing Freya stirring, Merlin resolved to go and talk to Sam later that day, just as soon as he’d got his love safely home and had some much-needed sleep.

…………………………

“Women are a mystery to me,” said Sam. “Always have been. Always will be.” He was leaning over the bar at The Shepherd’s Staff, talking in confidence to Merlin and Gwaine. “I mean, take Diane. She’s off at all hours, wandering the woods.

“I said to her: ‘Be careful of the beast… I’ve been face to face with that fearsome thing.’ But she doesn’t listen. Then she comes back, and she’s got this dreamy, faraway look in her eye, and I ask her: ‘How was your walk?’ and she just smiles at me and doesn’t answer.

“If I was a jealous man, I’d say she was off meeting someone, and the whole ‘woodland walks’ thing is a way to cover it up.”

“Nonsense, Sam!” snorted Gwaine. “You and Diane are the best kind of partnership. Don’t you think, Merlin?” He jogged Merlin’s elbow to get his agreement, but Merlin moved his arm pre-emptively, so that the ice in his soda water only clinked mildly. He’d got used to the constant jostling that he got from Artie’s gang, and had developed a mechanism for avoiding most of their friendly blows.

“Mmmm,” replied Merlin. That was his only wise counsel in this situation. He decided not to talk to Sam after all about having seen Diane on her early morning walk, and her strange response to his question. It would only cause Sam unnecessary worry.

“Listen to **this** fella!” laughed Gwaine, roughly tousling Merlin’s hair. “Mmmmm indeed. He’s all happy in his loved-up little bubble. I mean, whenever I come round to your place, you and Freya are usually in bed…”

“Oh? So **_that’s_** why you’re so tired all the time!” Sam winked suggestively.

Merlin decided not to say anything about that, either. The real reason he was so tired wasn’t nearly as pleasurable.

He was very happy though. In Freya, he’d found his true love. Just to be with her, in whatever capacity, made him truly content. There were, however, a couple of blots on the landscape. Aside from trying to manage Freya’s nightly shape-shifting, constantly at risk of discovery, Merlin had realised that money was running out fast. He needed a job, and soon.

When he’d lived in New York, he’d worked as a stock market trader for a while. It wasn’t in his nature at all, but he could magically predict which stocks were on the rise, and make money. It was educated betting. Or in his case – magical betting. He deliberately only traded small sums, and had some ‘failures’; to do more would have aroused suspicion. Leaving for England, in search of the book on runes, he’d given away most of the money he’d made to a children’s society. It meant that what was left of his ill-begotten nest egg was now rapidly dwindling.

But what to do? He accompanied Freya out each night, and although the days were now getting progressively longer as summer approached, he still needed some sleep in the daytime. This gave him little time left for work, and sparse options.

“Come and help out at the manor,” said Artie readily, when Merlin had confided his meagre financial state. Artie didn’t get it – he never had any money worries.

“Doing what?” asked Merlin. Although he loved Artie as a brother, he couldn’t think of anything worse than becoming his lackey.

“Oh, you know… bits ‘n’ bobs. A bit of light dusting. Vacuuming. Laundry stuff. Oh – some cooking maybe?” Artie didn’t really know what went into making a household function; he just wanted to give Merlin a job to help out his friend, without denting his pride. He’d actually just described perfectly what Maria, their maid, did as her full-time job.

“Thanks Artie, that’s really generous of you. But I think I’ll pass,” replied Merlin.

That had been nearly a month ago, but now he was thinking that working at the manor wouldn’t be such a bad idea. After all, he could come and go as he pleased, and working short, flexible hours was what he needed. So he went to call on Artie.

A couple of weeks later, he began to regret his decision.


	2. Words of Wisdom

“Women are a mystery to me,” proclaimed Artie. “Always have been. Always will be. I mean… what am I supposed to do? Merlin?... **Merlin!** ”

Merlin was leaning against the shady trunk of an oak tree. He’d been dozing off, as last night had been a particularly bad one with Freya, and he was now especially sleep-deprived.

“Whaaa..?” Merlin mumbled, hearing his name. He knew what Artie wanted advice about: relationships.

After Uther’s kidnap, Artie had successfully laid siege to his father, to gain a promise that the Darkling Wood wasn’t under threat of development. In the process, Artie had also besieged Lia, the leader of the eco-warriors, and had finally worn her down into having dinner with him. Artie normally radiated confidence, but when it came to romantic affairs, he radiated insecurity.

“I’m asking your advice, Mer-lin. Why are you sitting under that tree anyway? Come out into the sun,” urged Artie. He was languidly lying on the grass, in the midst of the manor estate, bare torso for all the world to see. Merlin, who had been bequeathed fair skin by his Celtic ancestors, tended to avoid all encounters with strong sunlight. He remained in the safe shade of the tree.

“You’re asking me how to impress a girl? Hmmmm,” replied Merlin, playing for time. Why did everyone always ask him for relationship advice?

“None of this lot has a clue,” continued Artie, gesturing to Gwaine, Lance and Leon, who were lying about on the grass around him. Lance looked up briefly from a volume of Baudelaire, his expression making clear he didn’t want to be disturbed. Leon shifted slightly, but his eyes remained closed. Gwaine, resting on one elbow, chewed thoughtfully on a long blade of grass.

“Any kind of food’s good. Pie and mash always does it for me,” Gwaine suggested, grinning.

“I’ve got a Jamie’s Dinners book you can borrow,” murmured Leon, still with his eyes closed. “He does a great chicken à la king recipe.”

“I’m not cooking her chicken,” argued Artie. “She’s vegetarian.”

“ _Mushroom_ à la king?” proposed Gwaine, unhelpfully.

Lance finally put down his book of poetry, and sat up, squinting at the sun. “Artie, you know I can’t advise you in this matter. Ever since Madeleine told me she’s getting engaged, I’ve realised I know absolutely nothing about women either. I poured so much love into that relationship…”

“… when you knew she was going out with someone else, Lance! That’s a sure way to get your feelings hurt,” remonstrated Artie. Lance’s expression clouded over, and he took up his book again. “You see, Merlin? This lot are useless. I think even Percy would come up with better suggestions.”

“Where is Percy, anyway?” asked Gwaine.

“Off doing his ridiculous training, for his ridiculous race,” laughed Leon. Percy was doing the Kingham Ultra-Marathon soon: 24 hours of non-stop running around the wooded valleys and hills nearby. His training schedule had him running at all hours of the day and night. He was also on a special diet, which involved mainly steak. “Got to pack in the protein, Merlin,” he’d said, tackling a 16oz surf ‘n’ turf that Diane had cooked for him at The Shepherd’s Staff.

“On second thoughts, Percy is the last person who would know what to cook for a vegetarian,” admitted Artie. “So that leaves you, Merlin. Any words of wisdom?”

Merlin was fully awake now, and he’d had time to think: “Why don’t you offer to cook at Lia’s place? And cook something simple. She’ll feel a bit intimidated if you invite her here, and she doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who likes cordon bleu cooking.”

Lia lived in a cabin in the Darkling Woods, which she’d constructed out of raw materials found in the forests and surrounding land. The roof was covered over with turf; the walls were packed with straw. Merlin looked down the incline towards the manor house, and thought that a date here would most definitely intimidate her. It would be two very different worlds colliding.

“Hmmmm. You know, Merlin, you may actually have the beginnings of a good idea there,” Artie deliberated. “And you can help me cook. Freya must have a night off soon, right? So if you can bear to abandon her for a while…”

Merlin thought about Freya, and how he’d promised never to leave her alone at night.

“I’ll ask,” he replied, noncommittally. Inside, he was wondering what might happen if he had to leave her, even for just one evening.


	3. Caega's People

Merlin had just refused Freya’s suggestion, with a point-blank: “No.”

“Please…” begged Freya. “What if I break the lock?”

“I’ll make sure it’s totally secure. It’s only for part of the night – I’ll be back soon after sundown, I promise. And there’s no way in all the heavens that I’m chaining you to the wall. It’s unnatural.”

Freya sighed. “Nothing about my transformation is natural.”

“I’m not doing it. I feel awful anyway, locking you up like this.” Merlin held her close, doubt seeping into him.

“You said you’d help Artie! It’s just one time.” reasoned Freya. “And I honestly will manage… we need to get used to me fending for myself some nights, just like I had to do before you came. I can’t expect you to be there all the time. My guardian, my rescuer. It’s too much.”

“It’s really not,” protested Merlin, and he meant it.

He wanted to help Freya shed her other skin, so, so much. It shone out of her, this wish to be fully human again. It had become his obsession. Yet all of the books he’d consulted, the web witch doctors, the gurus, the shamans: none of them had been any use. The powerful curse had even resisted his own magic. But he lived in hope that they’d be able to halt Freya’s transformations, some day. For now, he had to be content with the quietening of the creature’s ravenous instinct, or the distinct recognition in its eyes as Merlin walked alongside it in the hunt.

…………………………

Merlin felt abysmal as he closed the door to the windowless outhouse, ensuring the heavy padlock was clasped tight around the metal fastening.

“I’ll be fine,” mouthed Freya, as the door’s closing blocked out the remaining daylight. Deep scratches on the inside of the door attested to earlier times when Freya had locked herself in.

He was distracted at that moment by a loud voice nearby, hollering his name. And not that name – his other name: “EMMM-RYY-S! **EMMM-RYYY-SS!!** ”

A startled Sam ran round the corner, his breath coming in heaving gasps. “I’ve… found… you…” Sam bent forwards and coughed, while Merlin bounded into the cottage kitchen to get him some water. When Merlin had returned, Sam had righted himself.

“It’s Diane,” he began, gulping the water gladly. He was still trying to catch his breath. “She’s gone off.”

“When?” asked Merlin. He knew that Diane had been acting strangely, and of Sam’s unfounded suspicions about an affair.

“Last night. She didn’t return today at all. I thought it was one of her wanderings at first. I was trying to work out where she’d gone, so… I looked in her bedroom drawers. And I found these hidden away…” He extracted a roll of papers from his pocket and passed them over. Merlin noticed that Sam’s hands were shaking.

“Why don’t we sit down inside?” said Merlin, mindful of his friend’s sorry state, but equally concerned about how close they were to the sequestered Freya. Sam nodded miserably.

Once in the kitchen, Merlin unrolled the papers. On them, someone had drawn mysterious symbols, some overlapping one another so that they were indecipherable. Other pieces of paper had an old language scrawled on them. Where had he seen this handwriting before? Merlin wondered. Yet he recognised both the symbols and the language, from a long ago time.

“What are they?” asked Sam, both expectant and terrified.

“Symbols of an old fiefdom, I think. There’s a phrase repeated over and over – ‘Caega’s people’. I think that Caega might be the name of the feudal lord. Does lord Caega ring any bells?”

Sam gaped in astonishment: “It’s how Kingham got its name – it means ‘the homestead of Caega’s people’. Practically everyone in the village knows that. Lord Caega ruled round here, back in the ninth century. He was a total bastard by all accounts… excuse my French.

“Caega drove out the druids and established his own sect. He ruled by absolute force. Anyone who disagreed with him, anyone who didn’t wish to follow his ‘religion’: he made them into a slave, or...” Sam made the universal gesture for someone being executed. “But why is Diane writing down all this stuff? And then hiding it? I mean, we don’t keep secrets from each other… at least, I thought we didn’t.”

Merlin thought about the biggest secret he still kept locked inside, and how one day, he would need to tell Freya.

“I don’t know, but I’ll help you try and find out,” he replied. “Can you leave these papers with me?”

Sam nodded silently, downcast, and Merlin felt full of concern for his friend. “I’m sure Diane will come back, and soon. In fact, I bet she’s back at the pub right now. You’ll walk in, and she’ll be there behind the bar.”

“Do you think so?” questioned Sam, brightening.

“Undoubtedly,” Merlin reassured him. “I’ll walk along with you, keep you company.” And if Diane doesn’t return, he thought, we’ll form a search party tomorrow.

For now, there were too many things playing on his mind – why Diane was scrawling these symbols, and to what end; alongside near-constant worry about Freya’s wellbeing and security. Helping Artie prepare dinner for his date with Lia seemed laughably absurd in the circumstances: he’d ring and let Artie know he wouldn’t be able to make it after all.

Walking back with Sam to the village green, they saw a seemingly carefree Diane treading nonchalantly towards the pub’s entrance.

“Where have you _been_?” cried Sam, running towards her and hugging her to him tightly.

“Been?” echoed Diane, pulling away and looking mystified. “What are you talking about? I’ve been right here, all along!”

Merlin made his excuses. His confusion mirrored Sam’s own, but he was mindful that the couple needed to sort things out between them first. “I’ll call in first thing tomorrow,” he said gently to Sam, as Diane swept past them blithely into the pub. “We’ll work out what’s wrong, and we’ll put it right.”

“Thank you… Emrys,” said Sam gratefully, before he followed after the elusive Diane.

Merlin was about to dial Artie’s number, when his phone buzzed with an incoming call. “Merlin, where are you?” The reception was poor, and Artie’s voice crackled and split at the other end of the line.

“Where are _you_?” asked Merlin, thinking he still needed an excuse to duck out of this evening’s duties.

“At Lia’s,” was the faint, broken-up reply. “I think I might have set her cabin on f…” Then the line went dead, until five seconds later, Artie rang again. “Sorry, awful reception in the woods. I’ve kind of set the kitchen on fire. Just a little bit. There’s a lot of smoke.” …cough cough… “Can you come over and kind of, you know, help me sort out the damage? As well as helping me cook? Because Lia’s due back in less than an hour, and I want her to think I’m an amazing chef, not some weird arsonist.”

Merlin sighed as Artie rang off. He felt tired already, and the evening hadn’t yet begun.


	4. Love's Banquet

Merlin took one look around the cabin and thought that he’d have his job cut out, cleaning and cooking before Lia arrived back. The smoke had dissipated somewhat, but there was a disgusting smell of something like plant roots mixed with charcoal, that hung in the air.

Lifting a pan lid, he wrinkled his nose in distaste. “What’s _that_?”

“Lentils?” replied Artie, leaning in to inspect the pan’s contents and wafting the air in front of his face. “I soaked them like the packet said, then put them on to boil. It was taking too long, so I turned up the heat.”

Aha. So, the burnt-on lentils explained the smell, _and_ the source of the smoke. Merlin moved to chuck the remainder in the bin, but Artie stretched out his hand to stop him. “Hey! I cooked that. I want at least one part of this meal to be my culinary efforts. Otherwise I can’t truthfully say to Lia that I prepared it.”

Merlin shrugged, still trying not to breathe in the obnoxious smell. “How long have we got?” he asked Artie.

Artie glanced down at his phone. “About 40 minutes.”

Merlin thought he was best left to magic up a feast on his own. It would be an inhuman feat to sort everything out in that time, especially if a lovelorn Artie was standing there, ‘helping’.

“OK. What did you bring to cook?” he asked, hoping that Artie had at least brought the ingredients for a simple meal, as Merlin had suggested.

“Ummm. Lots of vegetarian-y stuff. Although I’m not _really_ sure what vegetarians eat. Spinach, mushrooms, crème fraiche, more lentils, some soy milk, some eggs, and a red pepper. Oh wait – Lia told me she’s _actually_ vegan.”

“So we can’t use the crème fraiche and the eggs,” advised Merlin. That left them with a whole heap of vegetables, the leftover lentils and some soy milk. He’d do his best, but he’d have to conjure something special out of all this; he was no masterchef. “Why don’t you wait out in the glade, in the fresh air? Leave it to me; I’ll sort this out.”

“Thanks, Merlin,” smiled Artie gratefully. “I don’t know what I'd do without you here.”

You’d be serving Lia burnt lentils, thought Merlin, but instead he smiled in return and guided Artie out of the door.

Thirty-nine minutes later, a far more pleasant smell was wafting out of the cabin. Artie was sitting on a fallen log on the edge of the glade, admiring the slowly setting sun, when Merlin came to sit beside him.

“All done,” he said. “I hope Lia likes it.”

“I hope she does too,” smiled Artie, more ruefully this time. He slapped Merlin on the shoulder. Or at least, he tried to, but Merlin shifted over just in time. “Let’s keep this between us, OK? I’m grateful for your help, but if Lia knew my friend had cleaned up and cooked, well… she wouldn’t have nearly as much respect for me.”

“Who says she’s got any respect for you now?!” joked Merlin, and didn’t manage to move this time before Artie jostled him playfully, nearly knocking him off the log. “So, ummm, I’m going to skedaddle; get back to Freya. Have a nice evening.”

As Merlin crossed the glade, away from the cabin, Artie called after him more seriously. “I really hope we will. And thanks again, Merlin.”

Leaving the woodland, Merlin hurried back along the lane to the village, the sun moving lower in the sky with every passing minute, until it was a glowing red ball hovering just above the horizon. Along the darkening lane, he spotted a tall figure running towards him, every now and again glancing at a pedometer strapped to their wrist. It was Percy, out for another long training run.

“Alright mate?” Percy grinned at Merlin, pausing in his run. Even though he’d been running for well over an hour, he’d hardly broken a sweat. “What brings you all the way out here?”

“Artie.” said Merlin. He thought that one-word explanation would do.

“Ahhh. The date with Lia. I’ll make sure not to run too close to her cabin, then, wouldn’t want to disturb the lovebirds.”

“How many more miles have you got to run?” asked Merlin. The pedometer on Percy’s wrist had registered 15.2 miles so far.

“Just 10 more,” said Percy blithely, as if that was a short distance. “I’m going through the woods, then up onto the ridge. Circular loop. Better get going, otherwise it’ll be midnight before I finish. See ya.” Percy ran off powerfully, looking like he could hoist the whole world onto his shoulders and there’d still be room for more.

Arriving back at the cottage not long after the sun had set fully, Merlin went immediately to the outhouse.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no no no.

For the padlock had been wrenched off, the door was hanging off its hinges, the scratch marks on the door were deep gouges, and the food he’d left inside was untouched. The creature was on the loose.

And Artie, Lia and Percy were all in the woods, and all of them at the mercy of its unbridled hunger.


	5. Please, Take Me Home

_Could you take care of a broken soul?_  
_Oh, will you hold me now?_  
_[Oh, will you take me home?](https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/jessglynne/takemehome.html)_

 

Merlin was back in the woods, scanning his surroundings for any sign of the creature. As his torch flickered and faded, he commanded: “Léoht.” The whole of the woodland around him lit up, as if he was the centre of a glowing ball of burnished light.

He could see Lia’s cabin dimly up ahead, and from the shouts coming from that direction, he knew where to go. If only his powers extended to extreme speed – for that was what he needed now.

Entering the glade he’d only just left a peaceful Artie in when the sun was setting, he saw a frozen tableau in front of him. Lia, hanging on to Artie, urging him not to go forward and fight. Percy, having gathered up a garden rake from beside the cabin, holding it out in front on him. The creature, crouched low to the floor, ready to spring in attack.

Before Merlin could cry out, Percy had swung his weapon in an arc, and the creature howled as the metal prongs raked along its side, its wings beating heavily in response.

“Stop!” cried Merlin, moving into the centre of the glade. The creature took its chance to escape into the deep shadows of the encircling trees. Percy, full of ire, started to bound into the undergrowth, ready to pursue the beast and kill it. But Lia laid hold of his arm, surprisingly strong: “Percy… don’t. Bravery is knowing when not to fight. That poor creature has had enough injuries – we shouldn’t seek to kill it, but to understand it.”

Percy shook his head in disbelief, but looked to Artie for confirmation. “I agree with Lia,” affirmed Artie. “There’s no way we’ll find the creature in the dark. And it didn’t try to attack us until we had a weapon aimed at it.”

Percy slowly, reluctantly lowered the rake. He’d wanted to claim the creature as a prize, but Lia and Artie’s words made him doubt himself.

“What do we do now?” he asked.

“Let’s all get inside the cabin,” said Lia. “The creature belongs in nature. It won’t try to enter my home.” She had the bearing and the voice of a leader, and both Artie and Percy followed her without hesitation.

Merlin, taking his chance, swiftly went to follow Freya further into the woods, afraid as to the extent of her injuries.

“Merlin?” called Artie. “Come on inside. Don’t follow that thing.”

“I’m going back to the village,” lied Merlin, glad the pitch dark obscured his face. “To warn them. I don’t know if the creature will make its way back there.”

“Good idea. Well, then… stay safe.”

As soon as Artie had disappeared inside the cabin, Merlin went into the deeper part of the woods, walking along a trail that he’d been with the creature before. Like anything with an instinct, it followed paths to familiar hunting grounds. He threw out a strong light in front of him, frantically trying to spot Freya.

It took him hours of searching before he eventually found her. The creature was lying panting on its side, in a dense thicket, bending its head to lick at the wounds.

“Bíde gehealdfæste, héahgesceafte,” murmured Merlin softly, as he knelt at its side to inspect the damage, feeling the wet slick of blood that matted the creature’s wing under his hands. Fortunately, while Percy had swung the rake with some force, he’d not been close enough. The wounds were superficial, and Merlin would be able treat them at home.

He stayed with the creature, sitting alongside its warm flank for another hour, until the sun began to appear again, the first shafts of light playing through low branches. He could feel the shape by him beginning to move and shrink back, until the curled up figure of Freya was next to him again.

“Please, take me home,” moaned Freya, and he gathered her frail form up, and carried her out of the woods.

A fog rolled in as the dawn broke; a fog so dense that no-one could see along the country lanes. Merlin, who had conjured the obscuring weather, walked home with Freya finally safe in his arms.

“I’m not leaving you again,” he promised, as she sagged painfully, her breath shallow. “I love you, Freya. I will never let anyone harm you. And if that means each and every night, we battle this together, then so be it.”

“Last night… it wasn’t me…” said Freya, struggling to give an explanation. “Someone wrenched open the padlock. I didn’t glimpse who it was, but I was so afraid. Then the transformation came upon me, and I had no time left to find secure shelter. Someone in the village knows, Merlin. Someone knows, and they set the creature free deliberately.”

Merlin was utterly chilled by her words, knowing what that might mean for Freya’s discovery. But what was needed now was reassurance; not more fear. “We’ll not make that mistake again. I’ll find out who it was, and I’ll make sure they don’t tell another soul.”

“Merlin… how?” questioned Freya. “We really have no clue.”

“I’ll find a way. No matter what, we’ll keep your secret safe,” Merlin told her with confidence. There were ways – the old ways; dark paths he didn’t want to take. But he would, for her sake.

“Merlin…” began Freya. “I’ve asked the gods what I did to deserve you.”

“And I’ve asked them what I did to deserve you, heáhgesceafte.”

“Say that again,” Freya smiled weakly. “And then tell me what it means, because it makes my soul full of joy.”

They finally reached the cottage, and Merlin whispered his reply to her. The door fell open as if by magic, and he carried her inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merlin says ‘Light’ and ‘Stay safe, noble creature’ in Anglo-Saxon (and then later calls Freya ‘noble/heavenly creature’ again). They’re very literal translations, so sorry if I’ve got the meaning completely wrong!


	6. The Prince of Kingham

At this very moment, Merlin couldn’t decide if an in-love Artie was better or worse than a not-in-love Artie. Either way – this Artie was in full flow: “So then Lia said: ‘You know, you’re very different to how I thought you’d be’.”

“And what was she expecting?” queried Sam, pulling Artie a pint of mild.

A very sleepy Merlin was drooping onto the bar next to the upright Artie, cuddling his glass of soda water absent-mindedly. He’d left Freya back at home, having bandaged her wounds again. The marks were finally beginning to heal. Every now and again, his eyes scanned the room furtively, wondering who it was. Who was the person who knew about Freya?

“Apparently, everyone calls me ‘the prince of Kingham’! Like I’m some spoilt, out-of-touch royalty. Did you know that?” Artie said, looking wide-eyed at Merlin and Sam.

“Mmmmm,” they both went, in unison. The entire village knew Artie’s nickname. Well, everyone except for Artie himself.

“And then she said: ‘But you’ve proven yourself better than a prince in my eyes’. And then, well, she grabbed me and…”

“Ahem,” interrupted Sam, raising his eyebrows and pointedly looking in the direction of a large family with young children, who had been having a noisy, messy lunch near the bar. “Keep it PG.”

**“** So then she grabbed me and, erm, did _amorous things_ …” continued Artie, trying to keep it PG as instructed. This time, Sam and Merlin laughed in unison, picturing Lia having Artie completely under her, ahem, amorous control.

“So, there’s going to be a second date then, is there?” chortled Sam.

“Oh yes,” Artie puffed out his chest with something approaching pride. “Only this time, Lia’s going to cook. She said my lentils were a bit burnt.”

Artie lifted his pint off the bar and carried it back to his usual table, where a triumphant Percy was regaling the others with his beast-defying exploits.

“It’s 2-nil to us, boys,” Percy was saying, playing to the crowd. “We’ll get the beast yet.”

Sam waited until Artie had walked off, before saying reflectively to Merlin: “You know who’s really a prince around here? We are – you and me both. Because we’ve got something that’s far, far better than being actual royalty. We’ve each got someone to love, and that someone loves us in return. For me, that makes us princes amongst men.”

“How about a toast?” suggested Merlin, for once, forgetting all of his troubles. “To being a Prince of Kingham.”

Sam poured himself an inchful of ale, so that he and Merlin could clink glasses.

“And how’s Diane? Any more wanderings or scribblings?” asked Merlin. He still had the papers that Sam had discovered, but hadn’t yet had time to look through them properly.

“No further wanderings. She’s been sweetness and light. In fact, she’s been so loving and attentive, I can hardly believe it’s her!” laughed Sam, bending to change one of the draught pumps.

In the far corner of the pub, Diane slowly rubbed away at the menu chalkboard on the wall, before writing up the dinner specials with a special marker pen. Merlin looked over as she copied out the choices in block capitals.

He suddenly realised, with a chill that crept through his entire body, where he’d seen that writing before. It had been on the roadside sign leading in to Kingham, the letters scrawling much more messily: ‘HOME OF THE BEAST’.

Diane turned around, and smiled deceitfully at all her patrons, Merlin included. They were going to fall under her control, sooner or later, and the first of them would be the meddling sorcerer. This place was Caega’s land. The real beast had only just awoken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There really is a small village called Kingham in the English Cotswolds, and its name really does mean ‘homestead of Caega’s people’ in the original Anglo-Saxon ‘Caegingaham’. [(Source)](http://www.surnamedb.com/Surname/Kingham)
> 
> But everything else about the village is made up from my imagination, because I’ve never been there IRL :D


End file.
